


Poise & Rationality

by HurricanErin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Breeding Kink, Dom Steve Rogers, Emotional Manipulation, Evil Steve Rogers, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Hydra Cap, Hydra!SteveRogers - Freeform, Power Imbalance, Protective Steve Rogers, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, hydra!cap, hydra!steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricanErin/pseuds/HurricanErin
Summary: Shield has fallen, leaving Eden at the feet of the villainous Steve Rogers, Hydra’s newest recruit.  She walks on eggshells, trying to survive in a new reality where she’s at the mercy of her closest friend, one where she can keep her heart locked away from this mess.  The problem is that the ex-Captain’s flirting and gentle teasing has turned carnal and new intentions clear: she is his and he’s going to have her.
Relationships: Dark!Steve Rogers/OFC, Dark!Steve Rogers/Original Female Character, Dark!Steve Rogers/Reader, Hydra!Steve Rogers/OFC, Steve Rogers/OFC, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/You
Comments: 25
Kudos: 128





	1. Chime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time Steve heil Hydra'ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eternal thanks to [Hysteria87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hysteria87/pseuds/hysteria87) who is one hell of a beta and [Quieta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quieta/pseuds/Quieta) who endures my caterwauling, both of whom are lovely friends and brilliant authors. You'd be doing yourself a favor by checking them out.

It felt like a bad dream, really; the defunct Avengers held captive at the overtaken compound while the newly triumphant Hydra made themselves comfortable. Shock collars, laced with gamma radiation and programmed to trigger in the event of excessive exertion, kept the fallen heroes docile as their minds rotted with hate and failure. It would have been a kindness to use Loki’s scepter to cheat them into blissful unawareness as they knelt to their enemies. 

The newest of whom was Steve Rogers.

Captain America was dead. The infamous shield rested amongst Hydra’s other freshly acquired treasures, his star spangled suit torn to shreds, and the righteous hero’s wholesome affect demolished beyond recognition. In his place stood a hardened, jaded man, lied to and taken advantage of ten times too many by the entity he had believed in with every ounce of his being. But, when government property and intelligence were held at a higher value than humanity again and again, when Shield repeatedly chose to prioritize the safety and preservation of weapons over the lives of civilians, Steve had finally walked away from everything: the scene, the victims’ bodies, Shield itself. Three days later, Hydra attacked the compound in upstate New York, led by the rogue First Avenger. All Avengers were taken alive and divided amongst the Hydra elite. 

Some higher ups chose more practical uses for their new playthings. Hydra monitored Tony, even more volatile due to Pepper’s disappearance, with a team of twenty while they forced him to improve Hydra weapons tech. Bruce, clad in a collar unique to his makeup and under the watchful eye of fifty of Hydra’s finest, was stuck in the lab conducting heinous experiments on future super soldiers. Natasha, Clint and Thor also served in sectors reflective of their own talents. Steve stuffed down the guilt twisting in his stomach and instead focused on the satisfaction of knowing that Shield’s puppets were neutralized.

The Captain’s personal vendettas didn’t end with the five originals; he spread his bitter anger throughout the extended squad of heroes. Save for a smattering of team members he recruited for Hydra, the Avengers as a whole suffered. He made certain that Eden, a Shield recruit with only two years on the Avengers crew, endured a fate just as miserable as the rest. She was his protegee and had been attached to his side since her first day on the team. She deserved to be punished like the others, forced to watch the world they had worked so hard to protect fall to shambles. 

Eden had had Steve wrapped so tightly around her little finger by the time he left for Hydra that when she refused to change sides, she had …wounded him. Badly. She deserved retribution, but Steve didn’t have time for petty discipline and the thought of anyone but himself marking or marring her skin made him see red. If someone were to physically punish Eden, it would be _his_ fingers pressing bruises into her arms, his teeth leaving angry red imprints on her neck, his lips pulling purple marks to the surface of her chest. 

_No._ The situation didn’t call for that. Not yet. For now, he was content humiliating her; keeping her close to his side, as she had been since her first day at the compound. Eden now served as his imprisoned assistant and glorified scullery maid. A combat-trained scullery maid capable of absorbing and neutralizing the energy of a nuclear bomb, but a maid nonetheless. Most importantly, she was his. 

Of all the people in the world to be assigned, Steve Rogers was the last who required cleaning up after. Even as Hydra’s Captain, he kept his rooms immaculate. In doing so, he unintentionally maintained that air of humility that had made him Captain America, which infuriated Eden. He would be so much easier to hate if he weren’t still _Steve_.

Smoothing the surface of the flat sheet over his mattress, she exhaled softly. Like the disciplined soldier he was, Steve made his bed every morning, but he liked new sheets every other day. Changing his linens provided a brief reprieve from the boredom of being confined to his apartment all day, for which she was grateful. Humming absently to herself, she spread the slate-colored comforter over his bed. She honestly wasn’t sure which she preferred: solitude; time wasted alone in his giant space where she was plagued by listlessness, or suffering his company, in which she was tortured by watching the man she revered so ardently betray his own credo. 

When a series of beeps and chirps sounded from the other room, followed by the _thunk_ of reversing deadbolts, Eden’s heart pounded and she haphazardly dragged the bedspread over the mattress and tossed the remaining pillows onto the bed. Rushing from his bedroom, she didn’t bother with the lights as she hustled into the living room. Steve discovering her in his room rarely ended well. He would stare at her, pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates as he made no effort to conceal the erection growing in his trousers. He’d toy with her until the tension in the room grew unbearable, and then she’d break and find an excuse to flee. Though they hadn’t acted on their mutual attraction prior to his betrayal, the power dynamic between them was vastly different now. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to refuse his advances anymore, and she didn’t care to put herself in a position to find out. So far, he had been lenient.

Trotting straight to a cart filled with decanters of alcohol and snatching the scotch, she paid little mind as she nearly missed the tumbler, hastily pouring as the front door released and Steve strode into the room. Wiping her wet hand on the skirt of her dress, Eden silently approached him and held out the crystal glass, neglecting to make eye contact. Once in his grasp, she fled with as much subtlety as possible, taking refuge beside the antique cart.

A stack of papers muffled the clatter of his heavy P220 as he dropped them to the kitchen table. Gaze flicking over her, Steve took a long draw, disappointed, as always, at the alcohol’s lack of effect. Though Eden’s eyes refused to meet his, she did pay attention to the way his scruffy throat bobbed as he swallowed, which earned her a grin. Her attempts at feigned disinterest were endearing. Actually, at the present moment everything about her was endearing. Appealing. Fresh from a testosterone-filled debriefing meeting, an aching tension filled him from chest to groin, begging to be released. However, their tango wasn’t simple.

Licking a drop of liquor from his lip, he nodded in her direction. “How was your day, Eden?”

Her lip curled before she dropped her gaze to the ground, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. The simple act caused a pleasant throb in his lower abdomen. The more she hated him, the more he wanted her. There had been a magnetism between them before the takeover, before his ultimate betrayal. Back when he was _good_. As his altruism had faded while hers remained, as his world had darkened and decayed, Eden had stayed a small beacon of… not light, but comfort. Someone he returned to at the compound and used to soothe the festering rage and simmering disappointment Shield fostered.

It was Eden who had coaxed him into sharing his doubts regarding Shield’s intentions and she had never judged him for it. She had listened, challenging him with the occasional question or opinion. He had never doubted her fidelity, but everything changed during the takeover. The expression on her face when she saw him flanked with Hydra soldiers that day of the attack made his stomach sink. Steve had trained her, _made_ her what she was. She was his confidante. He thought Eden’s loyalty would survive something like his transition to Hydra, but he was sorely mistaken. She had turned on him, just like almost everyone else. 

Eyes flicking over her body, clad in his designated 1940’s tea dress, Steve rested his hip against the leather sectional. His face hardened as he drained the tumbler and tried again.

“How was your day, Eden?”

Once more, ignored him.

“Respond, Eden.”

Focused on her hands, she picked at the cuticle of her thumb.

Pursing his lips, Steve sighed and reached into his pocket to retrieve a slim remote. He saw Eden freeze in his peripheral, but she still refused to look up. With an exasperated exhale, he pressed one of the buttons, frowning as the woman cried out and crumpled to her knees, tugging at the collar around her neck and leaning into the wall for support.

“Damnit,” she panted.

“I don’t like it when you ignore me, Eden.”

“I don’t like it when you betray your family, humiliate and hold us prisoner, but here we are,” she grit.

Steve’s face softened as his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see.

_Family._

The Avengers were his family. _Had been_ his family. Hydra would never fill that void. He knew that going in. For as much as Steve Rogers had changed, that basal, primal need to create a family he could protect and provide for still ate at him. It was the one thing in the world he _wanted_. He had given everything to defend the earth and its inhabitants. Was he not due what he desired most? 

Eyes focusing, they honed in on the seething woman bracing the wall. Even incensed and in pain, Eden made his thick cock swell. _Family._ He had entertained the idea featuring her, of course. It was impossible not to when they spent so much time together. He had briefly substituted several of the women he worked with, but he always came back to Eden. She fit all his requirements; wide hips, a hearty body, strong maternal instincts, and more than capable of defending herself. How her superhuman talents would factor into her offspring had yet to be determined, but he doubted the results would be adverse.

Natasha would kill anything he planted inside her just to spite him. She was self-destructive. But Eden… Eden was flawed in a completely different manner, in harmless ways, such as stubbornly insisting she was always right or that her way was best, but he had sway over her. She was headstrong with a temper, but both were easily tamed. In training, she yielded beautifully to him. Sometimes it took him physically besting her to get a point across. If that carried over to their relationship, then so be it.

He knew Eden may try to escape with his baby because she feared for his or her safety, but that did not concern him. He would prove to her eventually that once she submitted to him, there was nothing to fear.

With a tired, distracted sigh, Steve collapsed onto the sofa, discarded his glass on the cocktail table and absently rubbed his chin with a thumb. Frowning, he tugged at the hair on his jaw, feeling the length. He turned and examined himself critically in the mirror mounted on the wall behind him, running his fingers through the heft of his beard. He could feel the odd stray hair and the undefined neckline bordered on untidy.

“I want this trimmed,” he said without facing Eden.

Biting her cheek to keep from scoffing, she crossed her arms and raised a brow, only to be met with an austere glance in the mirror’s reflection. Steve nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

“My shaving kit is in the bathroom, bottom left cabinet. Go get it.”

Releasing an irritated sigh, Eden dropped her arms to her sides. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Her voice was demure but the ire in her eyes gleamed with disdain. Pushing off the wall, she slipped into his bedroom and to the ensuite. She knelt and rummaged through the cabinet, retrieving the worn bag. Steve watched impatiently from a kitchen chair as she dropped her prize unceremoniously on his kitchen counter. 

“What are you waiting for?”

Gritting her teeth, she unzipped the leather pouch, fishing out its contents and laying them on the table: a plastic comb, a few guards, clippers, beat up disposable razor, and a tube of shaving butter.

Eying the pile, the corner of her mouth pulled upwards. Forgetting herself, she couldn’t stop the jibe from tumbling out from between her lips, “The traditional Captain America doesn’t have a straight edge?”

Steve’s body stiffened. He inhaled sharply, releasing his breath through his nose. Forcing his corded muscles to relax, he shucked off his long sleeved tactical shirt and held it out for her to take. “I don’t have time for nostalgia.”

“Seriously?” Eden muttered to herself.

His movements froze and his gaze met hers. Heat bloomed across her face and chest at the invitation in his eyes to provoke him further. She held his stare for a moment longer before he called her bluff, and Eden looked away. Suddenly very busy folding his uniform, she focused on her task until he stretched his arms behind his head. With a loud, satisfied groan, he extended his hands into the air, then rubbed a palm against the skintight material of the thin, white cotton t-shirt plastered against his chest.

Aware of the nearly irresistible temptation to stare at Steve’s body, Eden set her jaw as she delicately placed his still-warm shirt on the counter. Planting a hand on her hip, her eyes flicked back and forth between Steve, his beard, and his array of tools. She motioned at the table.

“This is going to make a mess. There will be trimmings everywhere. Let’s do it over the sink.”

“Here is fine. My maid will sweep everything up later.”

Gritting her teeth, she marched to the table, snatched the clippers and comb in one hand and wrenched his chin upwards with the other.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. It may not be good,” she warned.

“I didn’t expect you to have done this at all. Whose beard have you trimmed?”

She hesitated, running the comb down through the scruff on his cheeks to wrangle unkempt hairs, then turned on the clippers. If his arched eyebrow wasn’t enough indication, Steve clearing his throat made his desire for a prompt answer abundantly clear.

“An ex owned a barbershop,” she said over the noise. “I wanted to know what he did all day, so he taught me.”

At the mention of her being with another man, Steve visibly bristled. 

“I see.”

Using her fingertips to angle Steve’s jaw as needed, Eden couldn’t fight the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes followed her everywhere as she guided the guarded clippers down in the direction of the hair growth on his cheeks. His pensive gaze was overwhelming, and given the amusement in his eyes, he knew very well the effect he had on her. She opted to ignore him. 

Confident that she had trimmed enough without taking away too much bulk, she flipped the switch off to change the guard. She needed one that would leave more length for his neck and chin. 

Steve cleared his throat, breaking her concentration.

“Do you want kids, Eden?”

She froze, almost dropping the plastic piece in her hand. A deeply personal question from Captain America wouldn’t have warranted a second thought. But, since the takeover and her accused betrayal, Steve had been cold, withdrawing from her completely. Her heart ached at the naïve hope bubbling up in her chest that the inquiry was meant as an opportunity to connect. That man didn’t exist anymore. Giving herself a mental shake, she cleared her throat and frowned in thought.

“Um, well—I guess—I—”

“It’s not a difficult question.”

Shooting him a nasty glare, she snapped the guard onto the clippers and flicked the power switch. With a huff, she positioned herself in front of him, yanking his chin upwards and running the clipper comb through his beard.

Eden pursed her lips. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom,” she admitted. “My career is so much more violent than I expected, I don’t think a child should grow u—”

“You’ll be a good mom,” Steve interrupted.

The conviction in his voice caused her to falter. With an uncomfortable laugh, she shook her head.

“I don’t know anything. While my friends had babies, I spent my early twenties learning how to control myself around sources of energy so I didn’t accidentally blow up a city. I learned to fight and devise exit strategies and collaborate with a team. If I have been around them, the children I’ve seen have been victims of awful circumstances. I wouldn’t know what to say to a kid I haven’t rescued.”

Steve was contemplative as she removed the plastic guard. Her thoughtful reflection only made him desire her more. The urge to claim her, before another Hydra member did, before an opposing force banded together and stole her away, clouded his vision. There was only one solution: He’d plant his baby in her belly now and tie her to him forever. Eden would never allow her child to be taken from her and if she ran from him with the baby, he would find her. No matter where she went, he would find her. She would be his by right. _They_ would be his by right. Mother and child tethered to father forever. His indestructible family. Untouchable, with two gifted parents that would do anything to protect their children. 

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the chair, tugging at his tactical pants as his erection grew at the thought of her swollen with their baby. For their first child, her movement would be restricted to the compound. She couldn’t be trusted, not yet. But by their second, he’ll have trained her by holding their firstborn over her as leverage to obey him.

Oblivious, Eden used the bare clipper to clean up his untidy neckline, neaten his scruffy cheeks, and trim around his lips. When she brushed away clippings littering his mouth with her fingers, he fought the urge to take them between his lips.

Eden started to hum, and it was clear her mind was deviating from their future.

“I’ve seen you with them,” he noted. “If you can handle traumatized kids during missions, you can handle your own. Practiced or not, you have maternal instinct.”

Eden’s ears glowed as she finished his sideburns. Whether Steve allied himself with Hydra or Shield, she knew he wanted a family. His approval of her ability as a mother was significant, she just couldn’t figure out where he was going with it. Opting to ignore his comment, she gingerly placed the clippers on the kitchen counter, as if doing so with little noise would allow her to slip away unnoticed.

“All done,” she said softly, casually brushing beard hairs off her dress as she backed away.

Eden yelped when he snatched her wrist. It took everything in her not to react instinctually, the way Captain America had relentlessly trained her body to respond when attacked.

“You’re not finished,” he said tersely, lifting his chin and rubbing the pads of his fingers along the short, prickly hair at his Adam’s apple. “There is still stubble.”

“I’m not using that rusty razor, I’ll give you tetanus,” she nodded at the disposable in his bag. Though Steve was correct, using a straight edge or razor would give an even closer shave than the clippers, she was not going to be responsible for infecting Hydra’s newest member.

Steve noiselessly raised his pant leg and slipped a black combat blade from a hidden ankle sheath, then handed it to Eden handle-first. Not a straightedge, but just as sharp.

“I just cleaned it,” he nodded at the weapon. “Don’t get it dirty.”

 _Don’t make him bleed_. It was the most impassive threat she’d ever heard, but as deadly as if he’d held the blade to her own throat.

Eden fingered the knife handle, watching Steve’s face uneasily. How could he careen from thoughtful parent to menacing so effortlessly? Was this a challenge? Did he want her to attack him? He had trained her; Eden’s uncanny talent for disarming enemies in place of killing them had always made Steve proud. He knew her every tell and every strategy in her repertoire. Besides, he’d never actually kill her; he found too much satisfaction in toying with her. He’d hurt her though. He had the self-control to dominate her physically without causing her bodily harm. The toll it would take on her heart was another story. Whatever he was planning, she wanted no part of it.

She held the knife back out to him, shaking her head. “It’s too hard to get the right angle. I’ll cut you. Do it yourself.”

Steve’s mouth twitched. He patted his thigh. “Sit. You can do it from here.” He leaned back, arms spread along the back of the chair, lap open. The epitome of inviting.

Eden’s face warmed as she set her jaw. Hesitating, her eyes flashed before she abandoned the knife on the counter and stalked further back into the kitchen. Immediately Steve reached for the remote, his thumb on the button to activate her collar. About to press down for blatantly disobeying him, he stopped when all she did was snatch a hanging towel and meander to the sink to fill a bowl with hot water.

When she turned to face him her eyes widened, brows furrowing into an expression of saddened anger as she saw the device in his hand.

“Can I keep going? Or should I put these down so you can zap me?”

Though he only felt a tinge of guilt, it was more emotion than he could afford. Hardening his expression, Steve dropped the remote on the table and raised his hands in the air. 

“My mistake.”

Again, he had to display that wretched humility that had made him Captain America. Why hadn’t Hydra purged him of it? Why couldn’t he just be _bad_? Breath stuttering as she exhaled, Eden stowed her items on the counter next to Steve’s shoulder, swapping them for the weapon.

Flipping the knife in her hand, she squeezed her fingers around the handle, inhaled and gingerly padded forward. Her breath caught as Steve’s iron grip cupped her ribcage and hip, lifting her to perch sideways on his thighs. She caught herself, one hand grasping at the thin white t-shirt he wore, the other plastered flat against his pectoral, the knife sandwiched between her palm and the solid wall of muscle.

Her fingers tensed when his chest rumbled beneath them with a laugh, goosebumps rising on her arms as his nose found its way against the hypersensitive skin of her neck. Steve made no effort to mask his groan as he inhaled the familiar fragrance of her jasmine shampoo, mingled with the scent that was intrinsically Eden. When she stiffened in his arms, he guided a warm palm up the expanse of her back, pulling her even closer as he used a knuckle to brush her hair from her face. 

“Things have always been easy between us,” he mused. “It feels good to be this close, doesn’t it? 

Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes lowered, focused on his chest. 

“Of course,” she shrugged. “This is normal. It’s no different than training,” she all but whispered.

_Shit._

Between his voice in his ear and his hands on her body, her brain wasn’t functioning. Eden needed space. She hadn’t smelled his familiar Old Spice deodorant, that faint note of sweat, or the pure musk of Steve since before the takeover. Her sole mission had been to convince her brain that the man working for Hydra who looked like Steve _wasn’t_ Steve, at least not _her_ Steve, so she could make it through each day. If she did that, Eden could maintain emotional distance while interacting with his imposter. She doubted sleep would ever come easily again, not with _him_ in the next room, but she could at least survive the daylight hours without a complete breakdown. But now _he_ was touching her, _talking_ to her like nothing had happened and she couldn’t ignore who _he_ really was. 

Steve’s thumb nudged her chin upwards to expose the underside of her jaw. Eden was caught so off-guard by act that the emotion bubbling in her throat froze and she sobered. She swallowed hard as she felt him lazily trace the tip of his nose along her jawline, before creeping lower and pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of her throat. She couldn’t breathe properly, but her head was painfully clear as his scruff burned her delicate flesh and his lips pulled gently against the tender skin of her neck, leaving a purple mark. 

The sound of her breath hitching was deafening, and in case she weren’t positive that it was, feeling his lips morph into a triumphant smile against her throat confirmed it. Steve easily pried Eden’s clenched fist from his shirt and looped her arm around his shoulder. She was putty in his hands.

Neither of them missed how the position brought them closer yet, pressing her breast firmly against his sculpted chest. Aside from the minor shiver that racked through her, Eden ignored the sensation of her pebbled nipple rubbing against his solid mass. Steve, however, did not let it go unnoticed. He released a pleased grunt and nodded at the knife in her hand.

“You have a job to do, Eden.”

She hated when he said her name. All it took was hearing those two syllables and her lower belly tightened, flooding with heat. She clenched her teeth with enough pressure that something in her jaw popped. Taking a deep breath, she regrouped, then studied his face, analyzing the best way to proceed.

Truly, she did her best to maneuver herself with as little friction as possible. But in reaching to drag the shaving butter, steaming bowl and rag closer, she shifted and her bottom ground against the existing bulge beneath her, eliciting a hiss from Steve.

Eden froze in a mixture of terror, embarrassment, and arousal. When Steve repositioned himself beneath her, it was her turn to stifle a moan. She was fairly certain the way he ground his erection against her ass was payback. Unprepared for the retribution, the quiet gasp she uttered echoed in the silent kitchen. Eden swallowed back a whimper, closed her eyes as she collected herself. Straightening with mock confidence, she wrung out the steaming washcloth, smeared a dollop of shaving butter on the back of her hand and turned back to Steve with the utmost delicacy. 

His harsh exhale puffed against her cheeks and she disregarded his smoldering gaze, stubbornly setting to work. It was impossible, however, to ignore the warmth radiating off his body. The contrast in their body temperature beneath her cool palms sent goosebumps rising up her arms as she twisted to face him. Keeping her face blank, she wet his cheeks, upper neck, and sideburns with the cloth, then worked the butter between her palms and applied it using as little bodily contact as possible. Unfortunately, she could only limit so much. Her task required her to run her fingers along his Adam’s apple, cheeks and the neckline of his beard to massage the product into his skin, ensuring there was a lubricating layer of cream between his flesh and the knife.

By all accounts, her hands should have trembled too badly to wield the weapon. She followed Steve’s gaze to the steady knife as she directed his chin once again with her hand. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smirk, but he couldn’t quell the regard in his eyes. She realized he was proud that she had stayed as composed as she had. Her lower half throbbed, trained like a dog to respond to pleasing him. At this point, it was a visceral reaction.

Cold blue irises tracked her every move as she lifted the blade, frowning at it before pausing to study his face. She had no more reason to dawdle. It was time to use the knife. Taking a sharp breath and holding it, she gently pulled the skin of his neck taut and dragged the edge of the knife through the layer of cream, only just scraping the surface of his flesh. It slid easily against his skin, slicing away the rough stubble until it met the edge of his carefully shaped beard.

Eden looked to him for permission to continue, but he only raised an expectant brow. Pursing her lips, she said a prayer to whoever was out there, thanking them for the fact that he was letting her work for the moment. She moved an inch to the left, and repeated the act. Mechanically she shaved Steve’s neck and jaw, moving towards his chin. As she reached the center of his neck, she scraped the knife across his skin, and he swallowed. The unexpected, fluid roll of his Adam’s apple beneath the weapon at an exaggerated degree hit the blade at _just_ the right angle. The skin split, blood welling at the shallow broken seam. Steve didn’t so much as flinch, but Eden’s entire body froze, her breath leaving her lungs. Her brain felt like a fuzzy TV channel. She couldn’t think. Only her eyes moved, darting towards Steve’s face as she tried to gauge whether or not she had just signed her own death sentence.

When his only response was to clear his throat impatiently, she shook her head. Her thoughts were so loud her head was about to burst and her frantic inhalations sounded like those of an overheated dog.

“I can’t do this,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t. Please.”

He moved without warning, fortunate that she had the training to keep the knife steady this time. In a blink, she straddled him full on, her hands once again bracing his shoulders in confusion as he settled her body over his lap chest-to-chest, this time with her core positioned over the bulging hardness in his pants.

“Oh,” she gasped as his erection aligned with the soft cleft of her center, her eyes glazing over.

Steve groaned, his head tipping back and exposing his neck even further. At some level, Eden registered the dribble of crimson gathered at the site of the miniscule cut, but out of fear for her life, she only watched it gather idly.

After a determined exhale, Steve swiped at it, distractedly glancing at his thumb after he swept the blood away before refocusing his gaze on Eden. Unfazed, he confidently settled his hands on her hips, squeezing to gain her attention.

“Now your angle is better. Finish the job.”

She started to position herself towards him, then stilled. Even the slightest pressure forward pressed her center against him. Fighting the urge to whine, she squeezed her eyes shut. With an uneasy breath, Eden shook herself. He wasn’t just going to allow her to leave his lap without finishing. Whether she was willing or not, he would make her complete the task. 

Refreshing the used dish cloth in the bowl of water, she used it to dab at his wound and clean the knife of stubble and excess shaving cream. She hesitated for a moment before adjusting the tension of his skin, then launched back into her chore quickly, more concerned with finishing promptly than the risk of inflicting another nick or two. Her physical position was beyond precarious; the intimacy of touching his face was already overwhelming, but the feeling of his cock exactly where she wanted it when they were separated by mere barriers of fabric and fundamental ideological differences was unbearable.

Eden didn’t want to think anymore. Retreating into her mind, she went on auto-pilot. Scraping and wiping, she worked methodically until her assignment was nearly completed. It wasn’t until then she that realized that once she did finish, she would be left straddling Steve’s lap without an easy way down and no work to occupy her. Torn between the incentive of not having to endure the intimacy of touching his face and the dread of the unknown, Steve forced her hand when he started rubbing his thumbs back and forth against her thighs, buffered by the cloth of her dress. She stiffened, unable to squirm away in fear of upsetting or further arousing him, but incapable of staying stationary due to the threat of his wandering hands. 

The look of amused satisfaction that came over Steve’s face frightened her. It also made her slick center throb. Certain she resembled a panicked deer with wide, leery eyes, she wet her lip, eyes flicking to the weapon in her hand.

“This needs to stop,” she warned.

Silently he dared her to break his gaze as his fingers traced the hem of her dress. Eden was keyed up on adrenaline, so focused on Steve and his predatory gaze that when his palms confidently made their way under the skirt of her dress and up her warm thighs, her reaction was instant. Clutching Steve’s knife in her fist, she made a lightning-quick move to hold the weapon to his throat. The clap of his palm catching her arm sounded before she felt his grip on her.

“Eden,” he sighed. “I’m disappointed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Dark!Cappers - Howdy. I feel this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship. 
> 
> What a fucking spring, huh? Keep on truckin' guys. Thanks for everything you do. ❤️


	2. What a Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That time push came to shove.

Her arm caught in Steve’s iron grasp, Eden couldn’t breathe. Muscles too tense to flinch in shame, all she managed was a halfhearted glare. He squeezed her wrist until she let the knife clatter to the floor with a soft mewl of pain.

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be,” he murmured with an affectionate stroke of her face.

Struggling for words, Eden glanced up at him with pleading eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted from her, but she knew that if she gave it to him, she’d never get it back. If she could get through to him before it was too late, maybe she could salvage what was between them before he ruined it.

His humid breath whispered against her mouth as his hungry gaze swept over her face, lingering on her eyes before settling on her lips. His mouth hovered centimeters from hers and her stomach twisted in dread.

“Steve,” she whined pitifully. 

She felt his cock twitch beneath her thigh. Eden hadn’t uttered his name out loud since the takeover. Even as his huge hand appeared in her periphery and firmly cradled the side of her face, she couldn’t break his gaze.

“Don’t,” she choked, her throat tight with emotion as their noses touched.

Briefly his eyes flicked to hers, but the clear blue of Captain America had been replaced by lustful, inky pupils so dilated they almost completely obscured the thin ring of icy cobalt iris. He knew Eden was already his. All he needed to do was officially mark his territory.

She had half a second’s warning before he tangled his fingers in her hair and dragged her forward, bringing their lips together with a groan. The agonized whimper she uttered only made him harder, but Eden was too swept up in the feeling of his mouth on hers to notice. 

She had expected him to devour her, to be rough and brutal and punishing. Instead, Steve was even more savage: He was indulgent; merciful. Passionate, but as if he recognized that she was hanging on to reality—to him—by a mere thread. She could feel his control slipping, as evidenced by his twitching fingers and vibrating biceps. But, at some level he was trying not to terrorize her, like he knew Eden needed coaxing if he wanted her participation. 

Their first kiss lasted only seconds, but he quickly came back for more, this time with more pressure, his growing hunger and loosening resolve evident. What worsened the situation was that Eden only endured the two meager touching of lips before she snapped. Twenty-four months of tension and longing and repressed feelings broke the dam, flushing away every ounce of her self-control. She found herself clutching the back of his neck, her own lips hungry and untamed, pleading with his to open so she could finally taste him. When his palms cupped her rear, she didn’t so much moan as she did whine, her hips flexing against his pronounced cock as she licked at the seam of his mouth.

Time lost meaning as Eden familiarized herself with his lips. Kissing him was easy, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Their mouths moved in sync with Steve taking the obvious lead. Greedily she pressed her tongue against his, moaning as he nipped her. 

When his lips deviated, her trance remained unbroken. All she could see and feel was Steve as his mouth trailed down her chin in wet kisses, ending in a bite. An unimportant part of her brain was surprised to see their scenery had changed: Steve had walked them back to his room. The look in his eyes when he pulled away made her stomach twist, though it was impossible to determine whether anxiety or dire need was the cause. He looked feral, eyes black as he absently ground his hips into her. On edge with epinephrine, fear and arousal, Eden shuddered, unable to maintain eye contact. Her body was reacting obscenely to his touch—at this point her panties damned her more than they offered her modesty. They were completely soaked through and the chances he could feel her through the layers of flimsy cotton were not in her favor. It was impossible for Steve to remain ignorant of this as he allowed Eden to slide down his hard body. When her feet hit the floor, he pulled the remote to her collar out of his pocket and held it up. Eden staggered back a step, but he grabbed her wrist.

“I’m not going to use this in here, because I know you want this. Forcing myself on you is not something I need to do, is it, Eden?” 

Eden rubbed her face, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t _want_ to want him.She was completely at his mercy in that he knew her weaknesses, but he was her mentor and it made sense that he did. It was just that in this case, her weakness was her desire for the man antagonizing her.

When she avoided his gaze, he snapped his fingers at her.

“Stop that, Eden.” She winced. “You want this. You want me. And in my bed, you don’t have to worry about your collar.” He paused, causing her to look up. “There are other ways of making you do what I want.”

The lust in his voice prompted her to look up, twin tears streaming down her cheeks. Steve raised a brow expectantly and she hurriedly wiped away them away before nodding.

“The second you leave this room, all bets are off. Normal rules are in place. I will not hesitate to use the remote. Do you understand?”

Eden cleared her throat, her voice too hoarse to speak.

“Yes, sir,” she said softly.

“Say, ‘yes, Steve.’”

She inhaled sharply, her lower belly filling with heat. Using his name earlier had been such a mistake, the emotional toll it was going to take on her had the potential to devastate. But it was familiar and comforting and saying it felt like it washed away some of the unmanageability of the situation… as if they were back in their normal Avenger roles.

“Yes, Steve.”

With a growl he sealed his lips over hers, sucking at her lower for a moment before breaking the kiss and resting their foreheads together. For a moment they simply breathed, Steve’s air intake even and measured while Eden fought to match his.

“Bend over, hands on the bed,” he murmured after a minute.

Air left her lungs in a _whoosh_ and suddenly the imagined façade that they had slipped into the past shattered. With a shaky sigh, Eden pulled away from him and walked the short distance to the bed. As she partially bent over, bracing her weight on her palms, she promised herself she’d keep her eyes locked on his headboard as if she were unaffected by everything he was doing. Steve’s footsteps and the rustle of clothing made it nearly impossible not to peek, but she desperately needed some semblance of control over the situation, even if it was completely novel.

Eden startled when Steve’s hand traced the line of her spine, snagging the zipper of her dress in the process. Her nose stung as he peeled the sides of the garment apart and a tear escaped down her cheek, dripping onto the bed she’d made only an hour earlier. He lowered the fabric until it pooled at her feet. Fingers tearing into the bedspread, she let her head drop as he tried the hooks of her bra twice before stretching the cloth on either side hard enough that the tiny metal hooks gave out.

Even through the thick material of the comforter, Eden’s nails bit into her palms when something soft brushed against her back. Soft pressure, then a drag and gentle suction. It wasn’t until his tongue laved at a little freckle on her shoulder that she realized it was his mouth. Entering a cautious haze, she barely registered the feeling of his hands on her bare hips. As she exhaled, Eden cried out when Steve’s teeth dug into the tender flesh where her neck and shoulder met.

“Ah!” she shrieked, squirming in his arms while smacking at him.

Steve took the opportunity to flip and push her backwards onto the bed. She scrambled towards the headboard until he caught her ankle, trapping her in place. Peeling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor, he followed her on to the bed. Eden drew her knees to her chest. Her position was one of defensive surrender. She knew he was going to have her. As he had said, even if she were to escape his bedroom, she wasn’t safe from the remote in the rest of the apartment. But she couldn’t just give in. When he walked forward on his knees towards her, however, common sense abandoned her and fight or flight instincts kicked in.

“Spread your legs.”

“Steve, please,” she whispered.

There were a myriad of reasons she kept her legs squeezed closed: protection, for one. Modesty. Self-respect. Eden could feel her own slick moisture soaking through her ruined panties. Steve already knew what awaited him. He didn’t need blatant proof of her desire. Nothing good could come of showing him what lay between her thighs.

“I won’t use the remote,” his rough voice broke her train of thought, “but I will use my hands. Spread your legs, Eden.”

She looked at him pleadingly, as if she really thought she had a chance. As if he would let her come this far and still back out. Pursing his lips, Steve shook his head in disappointment and loomed over her. He used little effort to pry her thighs wide open. The noise he released was akin to a growl when he saw the soaked valley between her legs.

“Oh, doll,” he sighed with a lecherous smile, clamping one hand on her thigh. He ran the thumb of his free hand up along the visible line in her drenched underwear, right between her pussy lips.

"Steve!” She jerked, burying her face in her shoulder as he experimentally stroked up and down.

Knees shaking and cunt pulsing, Eden managed to quell her vocalizations, but her haphazard breathing was impossibly loud. Each time the pad of his thumb neared her clit she broadcasted with rapid panting, and when he rested the digit on top of the nub she stopped breathing completely. She couldn’t try to stifle her reactions if she tried.

Digging his fingers beneath the elastic, Steve dragged the waistband of her panties down a few inches.

“Up,” he tapped her hip, nodding at her.

Eyes cast downward, Eden lifted her pelvis from the bed so he could slide the ruined scrap of fabric down her legs.

From her averted gaze, all she could see were Steve’s knuckles turning white around her panties. Panicking, her eyes flicked to his and she immediately regretted her decision. His gaze was fastened to her center, pupils blown. The extreme chill of air hitting the wetness that covered her pussy confirmed her fear; that between her thighs lay a humiliating display of her intense arousal. He continued to scrutinize the space between her legs, his breathing uneven and labored, as if he had just heavily exerted himself. Everything in Eden screamed at her to slam her thighs shut, but the savage grip he had on her underwear was a severe deterrent.

Finally, he spoke.

“Your body knows it was made for me,” he rasped. “Whether or not you consciously want this, you’ve prepared yourself for me, Eden. There’s not a thing you could say that would convince me you don't need this.”

Lip trembling, she narrowed her eyes.

"What about ‘no?’”

“’No,’ hmm?”

She nodded, her eyebrows drawn together.

Without a word, Steve firmly cupped her jaw, using his index finger and thumb to position her face. As he leaned in for a kiss, Eden couldn’t help as her eyes fluttered shut, her pussy already pulsing at the thought of meeting his mouth. But his lips never reached hers. Even as Steve crawled on top of her, he stayed just far enough away that she couldn’t have him; he allowed only the tease of affection. Some part of her registered the fact that the pitiful keening noise came from her, but she was so focused on meeting his lips that it wasn’t important. Tilting her head to find his mouth, she adjusted in search of it and this time Steve allowed her lips to brush his in the ghost of a kiss, then withdrew just out of reach.

Floundering, Eden opened her eyes to see Steve staring triumphantly at her.

“Still no?” he asked.

“Please,” she whined, defeated.

With a chuckle Steve leaned in again, only to deny her once more with a hand in her hair preventing their lips from meeting all the way. Eden arched upwards, pressing her soaking slit against his bare belly in desperation.

"Steve, please,” her voice broke.

His mouth slammed against hers as his groan vibrated through their kiss. Steve tore at the clasp of his tactical pants, dragging them and his boxer briefs far enough past his ass to let his cock spring free. Immediately his free hand tugged at his leaking length, trying to alleviate the furiously red, aching mushroom head. Breathing hard, the rough fingers of his other hand grazed Eden’s lower abdomen and mound until they idly cupped her.

“Steve,” she hissed, rocking into his hand. 

The tortured groan she released, caused merely by the self-inflicted pressure of pushing her clit into his palm, had him squeezing his cock at the base to keep from coming at the sight of her alone. The vision of Eden heavily aroused, frantically seeking release and knowing she’d only find mercy at his hands made his cock twitch. He wasn’t going to last and he didn’t care. Not an ounce of humiliation or guilt plagued him, all he felt was an intense, possessive male pride over the knowledge that he was about to claim the womb of the woman beneath him. 

As he pressed the tip of his cock between her slick folds, Eden’s entire body went rigid. He was a super soldier, but she was strong as well, and when she started struggling, he sighed in annoyance. Gingerly his fingers wrapped around her throat. He applied almost no pressure, just enough to catch her attention.

“Eden.”

Between his grip on her neck and the sound of his voice, lucidity cleared the alarmed confusion from her eyes, giving Steve a chance to speak.

“This is going to happen. I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to cum in you. I’m going to impregnate you.” She started to shake her head, stopping with a grimace when he raised a brow in challenge. “I’m going to mark your body. I’m going to mark _you_. Everyone on this base will know you belong to me when they see your belly swollen with my seed.”

She felt his cock jerk against her thigh and broke his gaze, letting her head drop to the side with a whimper. Grumbling, Steve squeezed her throat, repositioning himself over her so his stance was even stronger. Eden begrudgingly looked at him, though immediately regretted it when the tip of his cock dragged against the swollen flesh of her clit. She released a high pitched grunt, biting her cheek as Steve repeated the act. Staring down at her, Steve used her own arousal against her as he began a steady rhythm, firmly rubbing the head of his length against her sensitive nub until she was keening, arms clutching his shoulders and hips thrusting sloppily in search of an orgasm. Several tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but her mind was nearly blank with bliss and she didn’t notice them.

Unable to withstand her writhing and unwilling to waste a load outside of her pussy, he released her neck and swiftly dragged his cock to her opening, gently pressing forward. Steve forced himself to stop as he felt the head of his cock pop inside her. For all of the enhanced blood, bone, muscle, and tissue that composed his body, Steve’s chest heaved as his lungs gasped for air, despite the fact that he lay stationary.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head, unable to control her mindless hips as they twitched towards him with desperation. Finally, he was inside her. Her body was past simply craving him, it needed him. Steve had her throbbing, completely mindless except for the niggling guilt shrieking faintly in the background. She felt like an animal she was in such a pitifully primal state. 

Steve groaned through his clenched teeth and eased himself forward, bracing on his elbows as he sank further into her welcoming cunt. Eden’s breath caught as he cupped her face, tilting her so she was forced to look at him.

“I know, doll,” he whispered against her hair as he kissed a tear away. He licked the pad of his thumb and found her clit, causing her to jerk in surprise.

“Don—,” she whimpered, pushing at his arm, only to be rudely interrupted.

"That’s enough. You’re through telling me what to do,” he ordered, snatching her wrist and pinning it beside her head.

Knowing the futility, yet acting on principle, Eden swung at him with her other arm, which paralleled its twin trapped against the bed seconds later. When she wriggled beneath him, the walls of her cunt flexed around his cock, making Steve’s breath hitch. Fighting the urge to fuck her into the mattress, Steve forced himself to gaze down at her. As usual, her emotions were illustrated on her face.

The crease marring her brow lessened as he brushed his fingers over it, but her grimace remained. It took Steve’s lips on hers to surprise her out of the expression, which allowed him to retract his hips, then give a firm thrust forward. In the back of her mind, Eden registered the slight discomfort as he stretched her, but she was so slick and he had given her so much time to adjust and he just felt so fucking _good_ inside her that the thought passed quickly.

Steve cupped her jaw and squeezed gently to keep himself from biting her lower lip in bliss when he felt her pussy relax, finally allowing him to slide in to the hilt. She could feel the reverberations of the deep moan of satisfaction he released through their kiss as his sac rested snugly against her rear.

"Oh my god,” Eden gasped against his mouth, touching her fingertips against his lower stomach. She’d never felt pressure against her cervix before.

“That’s my cock kissing your womb, doll.” He withdrew an inch before carefully sliding back in, watching her face as the head of his member nestled against the sensitive muscles deep inside her once again. “When I come in you, it’ll be doing even more than kissing.”

To her utter shame, Eden’s cunt contracted involuntarily around his cock at the mere thought. _She didn’t want that._ She couldn’t want that. Logistically, they could never work. But every primal instinct in her body screamed at her to let this man take her, to let him fuck his baby in to her body. And her emotional instincts? Their cacophony of demands were so deafening she couldn’t make out what they wanted, but her heart was begging her to accept that this was happening, that they were finally acting on this thing that had been between them.

When Steve began thrusting, his pace was agonizing. Slow, but hard. He tilted his hips at an angle so he wasn’t battering her to the extent of causing pain. She would already feel him enough tomorrow. The thought of Eden limping because of him, of her feeling his presence even while he worked during the day made not coming all the more difficult. Shifting, he moved so he braced a forearm above her head, allowing him to fuck her even harder and with better speed. At that point, he had to rest part of his weight on top of her. She was writhing beneath him, hooking a leg over his hip and clinging to him. 

“You feel it, don’t you? How badly you need this,” he grunted. “Your body is begging for it.”

Her walls twitched around him and she cried out in emotional despair, utterly betrayed by her body as her tight heat begged for his release. The next pump of his hips triggered the beginning of her orgasm, and the confidence that Eden now belonged to him fueled Steve’s ruthless pace. The way her innocent eyes widened as she stared reverently up at him as he brought her to the edge made his balls draw up against his body in preparation; the feel of her panting body tensing in pleasure, pinned beneath his heaving mass coaxing him closer and closer to his own release.

Mouth parted in a silent scream, Eden’s back arched off the bed, her pelvis thrust helplessly against his as her cunt spasmed around him, her vision going white as heat exploded up her spine. As the walls of her pussy tightly gripped his cock, she was vaguely aware of Steve kissing her, but after the orgasm he had wrung from her her body was more limp than after spending an entire day training with him.

What brought her back to earth was the sudden flood of heat inside her and Steve’s guttural grunt, followed by his head dropping to her chest.

“Fuck, doll,” he panted.

Still panting heavily, she managed to breathe out a single syllable as her eyes closed in heartbreak, “No.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel so inclined, constructive feedback is always appreciated here or on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/hurricanerin)


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